A Little Trust
by thinkatory
Summary: "So Malcolm's got the fucking dowdy bitch from DoSAC in his office today, and Jamie is playing bloody Angry Birds because he's got no one to shout sense into, does he, not for now, not unless he goes to DoSAC and the cotton-headed fuckers there to try to solve the problem at the root." The beginning of Nicola, Malcolm, and Jamie's story.


So Malcolm's got the fucking dowdy bitch from DoSAC in his office today, and Jamie is playing bloody Angry Birds because he's got no one to shout sense into, does he, not for now, not unless he goes to DoSAC and the cotton-headed fuckers there to try to solve the problem at the root. The main problem is never the secretaries or the people at the top, they're useless anyway, it's the idiots who are supposed to correspond to his position except much lower, but they're as fucking terrible at it as a virgin at a blowjob, most of them. All of them, really.

"Take that, you rotten piggy bastard," he says to his iPhone.

"Do you really have nothing better to do?" Sam asks him from her desk.

Jamie glowers at her. "If I did I'd be doing it," he points out.

"I somehow doubt that," she says, tone clipped.

He raises his eyebrows at her. "Are you calling me a procrastinator?"

"I'm saying you don't do anything useful unless Malcolm tells you to," Sam says, "do you disagree?"

"Whole-fucking-heartedly," Jamie confirms.

"Well, we'll have to disagree on that, then," Sam says serenely.

"Thank you SO much for the input, Malcolm, but I think I've had enough of being called very, very creative offensive names for the day," Nicola Murray is saying as she steps out of the office, "so have a wonderful FUCKING day, Mr Tucker!"

"Get your fucking ducks in a row for once and I'll buy you fucking roses," Malcolm calls after her, and stalks into the office. "Are you playing Angry Birds again?" he demands of Jamie.

"Yes I am," Jamie says, unabashedly, as Sam watches them.

"Well stop it and do something useful," Malcolm snarks. "Haven't you got press to do on this citizenship thing?"

Jamie looks up from his phone. "Weren't you two just talking about that?"

Malcolm just smirks. "You have a way with DoSAC."

"You mean I hate them," Jamie says.

" _Exactly_. Now go do your job before I've got to put the nipple clamps on to motivate you."

Jamie grins, ignores Sam's eyeroll as he pockets his iPhone, and gets the fuck out of there.

* * *

Jamie just stares at Nicola as she paces, agitated. "What I don't understand is how you lot at Number 10 expect me to work when you're here telling me how to do my job twenty-four hours a day. What I'm asking for is a little trust," she tries to explain.

"Then you'd better earn it," Jamie answers.

"That's enough. That's - enough from you," she commands. "I am doing everything I can to solve this problem. I've got my people working hard - "

He snorts. Loudly.

"My staff is not a joke," Nicola says heatedly.

"You're right, I still haven't heard a punchline," Jamie answers easily.

Color comes to her cheeks. He couldn't be happier. "Who are you to come here and tell me that my Department isn't good enough?" she demands. "I am, I am very proud of the work we do here. And you're just... just Malcolm's puppet."

Jamie pauses, because it looks like she might slap him, but on the other hand, no one's spoken to him like this in ages. Except Malcolm, and that doesn't count, because Malcolm talks to everyone like this, except much worse, obviously. "Prove it," he says. "Trust your staff with something genuinely difficult for once."

"Excuse me," Nicola starts, indignant.

"Am I wrong?" he retorts.

There's a silent moment where Nicola can't decide if she should fume or maintain her dignity, and she exhales. "Yes. You're wrong," she says.

"Then do something that isn't fucking boring," he says. "But run it by us first, for the love of fuck. Who the fuck knows what they'll come up with." He jabs his thumb in the direction of the rest of the DoSAC offices. "Fix this. Come to me with your best idea. We'll get it done."

Nicola has this fire in her eyes, a look on her face he's never seen before in her admittedly limited time in the spotlight. "You're on," she declares, and looks at the door expectantly.

"I'm not fucking leaving until I hear an idea on how to fix this," Jamie clarifies.

"Oh for fuck's sake," she mutters, and goes to the door to yell for Ollie, Teri and Glenn. He watches her walk away, and mildly contemplates how she'd look spread-eagled on the desk.

Not exactly dowdy, is she, after all?

* * *

Later that night, when Malcolm is untying him from the bed and Jamie is panting for breath, he says, "I have an idea."

"I'm not doing another scene tonight, you rabid little fuck," Malcolm says mildly.

"Yes you are," Jamie says, fighting off a wild grin, "and that's not what I meant."

Malcolm puts his hand up against Jamie's throat. "Oh, am I?" he asks, a playfully sharp edge to his tone.

Jamie smirks, and Malcolm undoes the ropes on his other wrist. "I think we should take on Nicola Murray," he says.

Malcolm stops and stares at him. "Are you fucking serious about this right now," he says, more a statement than a question.

"Can't deny she has an It factor, can you, sir," Jamie asks, eyebrows raised.

"You shut your mouth about Nicola fucking Murray right now," Malcolm warns, "or I might just leave your arse here for your boss to beat when he hears about this."

Jamie stretches his wrists out, trying not to grin at Malcolm's words, then says offhand, "If you want me to stop talking about Nicola, why are you getting hard?"

"Because you're such a fucking pain in the arse," Malcolm says.

"Because I call you sir," Jamie says. "And because when she yells..."

Malcolm kisses him hard on the mouth, his hand to Jamie's throat, and Jamie slides his body up against him. "Fuck you," his boss says, gives him a light slap on the cheek, and goes to undo the other bonds.

"Admit it, sir," Jamie goes on.

Malcolm says nothing, just sends Jamie a look as he undoes the bonds on Jamie's ankles, and that says everything.

* * *

"I have it!" Nicola declares openly as she enters Malcolm's office. It's been two days since Jamie tossed her the option of bringing something useful for once to Number 10, and for fuck's sake she apparently decided to. "I have something that even you two can't turn down."

"I doubt that," Malcolm says freely. "Why are you here?"

"I was invited." Nicola sends a pointed look to Jamie.

Jamie turns a not-very-apologetic look to Malcolm. "I asked her to do something useful."

"It's DoSAC, it won't ever be useful," Malcolm snipes.

"Pardon me," Nicola interrupts, irritated. "I have something that the Prime Minister would be proud to support right here in my hand, if you could keep from mocking my Department for ten seconds, Malcolm."

Oh, Jamie knows the look on Malcolm's face. He's not wrong. Malcolm would fuck her, right now, at least. "You make good policy," Malcolm says, "but important policy? I don't think - "

Nicola smacks the papers down on his desk. "Read," she orders.

"Who the fuck are you to give me demands?" Malcolm retorts.

"I'm the Secretary of the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship!" Nicola snaps.

There might be something really wrong with Jamie, but he shifts to hide his growing hard-on.

* * *

Later that night, after they've spent an hour or two looking at her proposal on parks in urban areas, statistics, finance and all, Malcolm says to Jamie over their third pint, "You're not wrong."

Jamie tries not to look too smug.

* * *

Eventually, a week or two later, there's a victory party. It's not much of a party, it's mostly Jamie and Malcolm and Nicola at Malcolm's house with a lot of beer because as it turns out, she doesn't hate them as much as they don't hate her.

"To DoSAC," Jamie toasts, raising his beer.

"To something better," Malcolm corrects, raising his own. "To something grander and even more fucking magnificent."

"Boys, you're going to make me blush," Nicola says dryly.

"Oh, wait until later, sweetheart," Malcolm says, and Jamie freezes. Maybe he's too drunk. Maybe this has all gone too far. Maybe -

"I'm not your sweetheart," Nicola informs him, but not sharply.

"I never thought you were sweet," Malcolm says.

"Not to you."

"Good."

 _Can we fuck already?_ Jamie is wondering, but just drinks his beer.

Nicola starts talking about the PM and asking Malcolm entirely unprofessional questions, and she's obviously drunk, too, because Malcolm's hand on her knee isn't causing any apparent alarm, at all. Jamie watches her knees part.

"Yes, yes, he's the Prime Minister." His fingers graze the inside of her thigh, and even Jamie feels a chill up his spine. " _For now_."

Nicola's smile is beautifully wicked, and that, in reflection, is when it all started.


End file.
